


Those Blasted Red Knickers

by Jamberine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamberine/pseuds/Jamberine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just another day in the store. Only, this time, there was an innocent white box on the countertop that would change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling. In no way do I claim her original characters, settings, or plots as my own. I make no money from this story. Original characters, original plots, and werewolf culture are my own work.

The first anonymous gift Hermione received had resulted in horror. It wasn't flowers or chocolates, no. It couldn't be something as mundane as that. Evidently, her secret admirer had bigger plans for her.  
It wasn't grand at all, sitting almost innocently in the unassuming, white cardboard box. In fact, Hermione decided, the simple boldness was probably the worst thing about it.  
It was just another day in the book shop. Remus had gone out to collect the order of books that had arrived via the muggle post. His store had a section dedicated to the loons who were fascinated with everything non-magical. Novels written by J.R. Tolkien, and Raymond E. Feist were among the most popular bought, mainly because of the comparative opportunities they presented.  
Hermione had stared into the box, mildly aware, and extremely thankful that the last customer had toddled out to continue shopping.  
Slowly, as if afraid of the innocent object lying within the cardboard was going to start snarling and lunge at her, Hermione reached inside and delicately picked it up, letting it dangle from her thumb and forefinger.  
Unfortunately, as soon as the offending gift was at eye level, the front door to the book shop opened with a delicate tinkling of the store bell. Remus entered, arms wrapped around a single, small box. Hermione was sure that it was full of books, shrunk and charmed lighter. She had ordered enough tomes to fill up a quarter of the back storeroom.  
Remus had a warm smile on his face, cheeks slightly reddened from the snow; white flecks thus clinging to his shoulders, beanie, and the very tips of his adorably scraggly balbo.  
That friendly smile however, turned into an expression of shock and utter revulsion as his bright blue eyes landed on the frilly red G-string dangling from her fingertips.  
Hermione just about choked on her own spit as she fumbled to put it back in its box. She dropped it on the floor twice before she managed to return the racy set of panties to their deceptively innocent box, meanwhile spluttering, "it wasn't – I promise – Remus, I – oh, goodness, I can't believe – not me, I swear!"  
"Hermione?" Remus croaked, his eyes wide, face drained of all the rosy cheer it had previously held. "was that...?"  
Hermione behaved like a deer caught in the headlights, hurriedly stuffing the lid back on the box, her face red with humiliation. "Remus, I promise it wasn't me!"  
Remus made an odd sort of choking noise before he managed to croak another reply, "I know that, Hermione. Kindly remove it, however. Preferably in the bin. Far, far away."  
Hermione nodded hastily, picking the box up, stumbling to the store room, and shoving the gift in her bag. She would burn those blasted knickers later.  
It was only when she got home later that evening that she realised that Remus had perhaps overreacted. They were just a pair of knickers, technically. Hermione was sure he had seen many a set of frilly red knickers whilst married to Tonks.  
And with that thought, Hermione froze.  
From that day on, she couldn't think about Remus or frilly knickers without an image of the other accompanying it.  
-0-0-0-0-  
After that, Hermione became inexplicably shy towards Remus. Not only had a once innocent crush on him intensified to a sort of puppy-like mooning, but she now started thinking, dreaming, about all manners of naughty things regarding him.  
Naturally, she was terrified. What if she blurted out what she really thought of him? What if she behaved inappropriately in front of the poor man, to the poor man? Good heavens. She was doomed.  
She had long ago come to terms with the fact that Remus would never be even remotely interested in her. She was far too young for him, even though, if she looked at it logically, she was more mature in spirit than she was in years.  
Hermione couldn't think of any other excuse for them not to be together, but given time, she was sure she could come up with a few things. In any case, it could just be a simple fact that she was just not Remus' type.  
Just look at Tonks. She was tall, with legs all the way up to Svalbard. The older woman had a bubbly, carefree personality, who was incredibly smart, unassuming, and extremely affectionate.  
Hermione was short and pear shaped, with wide hips and thighs, and narrow shoulders. She was quiet and reclusive, and while relatively smart, her vast amounts of knowledge only came from hard work. She could be judgemental at times, especially when it came to common sense or lack thereof. And she was completely horrified at the thought of public displays of affection.  
Ah, there's your list of why Remus would never be interested in Hermione.  
As the saying went, opposites really do attract.  
'Of course,' Hermione thought pensively, 'that relationship did end with divorce. Perhaps opposites do attract, but can they sustain a relationship?'  
Evidently not.  
"Hermione? Hello, anyone there?"  
Hermione came back to the present with a start, hand flying to her chest as her heart gave a startled jump.  
"Remus," Hermione said dumbly, cheeks growing pink, "sorry. Lost in my thoughts there. I'll... just get back to w-"  
She attempted to scurry off, but Remus stopped her with a gentle hand grasping her upper arm. "Wait, Hermione, we need to talk."  
"We do?" Hermione asked miserably. "Look, Remus, it wasn't me, I promise. Those knickers were just some cruel prank, I should imagine. I'd never be so inappropriate as to bring something like that in the shop!"  
"I know," Remus comforted her quietly, his large hand moving from her arm and resting on Hermione's lower back to guide her back to the chair she had just vacated.  
"Sit," he urged her gently, voice soothing like warm honey.  
Remus leaned back against the counter and gazed at her steadily. Hermione dropped her head to avoid looking at him in the eye.  
"Are you never going to look at me again?"  
Hermione's head snapped up. "No – I, I mean yes – I – Remus –"  
"Stop," he held his hand up. Hermione's jaw closed with an audible clicking sound. "Hermione, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. What happened yesterday was certainly... eventful, but it wasn't your fault and certainly nothing to be embarrassed over. I should imagine you have due course to be quite flattered."  
He smiled at her, and his eyes held a subtle sort of intensity in them that made Hermione's knees weak. She was suddenly grateful that she was sitting down.  
"Flattered?" she blew a disbelieving raspberry. "No. It was probably just a crude prank from a group of teenagers trying to be rebellious."  
"Perhaps," Remus agreed mildly. "Or maybe someone's trying to tell you something."  
"Tell me something?"  
Remus looked visibly uncomfortable by this point. "You know... maybe that they... wouldn't mind seeing you... in such... attire."  
"Oh," Hermione breathed. "Oh."  
Remus nodded, eyes now dipped to the ground, lips pursed in what seemed was pain.  
"Oh," Hermione said again, giggling uncomfortably. "That's very kind of you, Remus, but I doubt it."  
Remus' eyes snapped up to hers, a frown drawing his brow downwards. He opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again.  
When he spoke, it was after a few seconds of quiet thought. "Very well. If that's what you think... Will you stay with me tonight?"  
Hermione smiled, relieved that he had changed the subject. "Of course. You really don't need to ask, Remus. I always do."  
Remus simply smiled at her, reached forward to squeeze her shoulder gently, and then went about his business.  
Hermione watched him go, quiet longing in her whiskey coloured eyes.  
He always asked her to stay with him on the full moon, and she always said yes.  
-0-0-0-0-  
They shared an early dinner in Hermione's secluded home. She made sure he was well fed, despite his rapidly waning appetite. And then, just to make him feel better, she gave him a big serving of homemade chocolate truffle. Remus, naturally, couldn't resist the sugary confection. He gobbled it up, despite his quick tiring, and rapidly paling complexion.  
When he went down to the basement to change, he made Hermione stay up in the kitchen. He never let her stay for the initial transformation - not after the first time she had purposefully stayed with him during the full moon. Apparently, he could remember the look on her face as his body twisted and gnarled itself into another shape entirely. He described it as one between horror and panic.  
She didn't hear his screams and howls of pain tonight. Hermione knew that he would have put a silencing charm around himself as he made his way down to the basement. She waited somewhat impatiently, quickly washing the dishes and packing them away by hand.  
When the last plate made its way back into the cupboard, Hermione turned to look out the kitchen window. The full moon was high and bright in the evening sky. It illuminated the land below, casting an eerie blue over the hills that secluded Hermione's small home.  
Turning away from the now disturbing sight, Hermione puffed out a long sigh, and made her way downstairs. She transformed into her animagus form half way down, giving her body a rapid shake to dispel the slight discomfort that came with the change.  
She could only imagine the horror that Remus went through when his body was forced to experience such an invasive act.  
Quickly nosing open the slightly ajar basement door, Hermione cautiously wade her way into the room.  
Remus was curled up in a far off corner; his mangled, frightening form quivering ever so slightly from what Hermione was sure was shock. He lifted his head up as she slowly made her way into the room, her belly low to the ground, ears tipped back onto her head cautiously. Their eyes met for a mere second before Hermione lowered hers politely. He keened lowly at her in a soft greeting, and didn't move. Hermione's head came up again to look at him as his head lowered to the ground, resting tiredly.  
Her ears tipped up, alert, as she slowly made her way over to the large werewolf.  
He was mangled and sad-looking, with his ears tipped back and eyes averted almost meekly. The ridges of his spine poked out of his skin painfully, his scapulas and hip bones sitting at sharp angles over his lanky body. The fur over his form was thin and coarse, and, Hermione noted with sadness, his nose was dry.  
She dropped to a crawl when she came within a meter of him. She chattered softly to Remus when she came close enough to touch noses. He keened to her again, rumbling, and Hermione felt his warm breath puff over her face.  
Her tail thumped against the floor as she wagged it at him, and went about licking his snout in a warm, comforting greeting. He attempted to do the same, his large tongue engulfing her face in a slobbery lick. Hermione froze in place, dazed and slightly horrified.  
As best as a canid could, Hermione glared balefully at the werewolf above her.  
Remus merely made a slight hacking noise, one that Hermione had long ago come to recognise as a laugh. His amber eyes held a small amount of mirth, and despite the now distinctly wet feeling she was forced to experience, Hermione felt glad that her reaction had brought him joy for the evening.  
Yipping softly, she turned and toddled to his side, stepping over his thick, lanky legs, and curling up against his warm body. Remus' head turned to look at her, but Hermione's eyes were already closed, awaiting sleep.  
The first warm, grooming lick, made her ears tip back submissively, a soft, indolent chatter escaping her nuzzle. The second made warmth bloom in her chest. The third made her relax.  
She never felt the fourth, for Hermione quickly fell into a deep, warm sleep.  
-0-0-0-0-  
Hermione awoke the next morning to the experience of her body being shifted into a large, warm hand. She chattered in slight protest, squirming a little as Remus cradled her to his naked chest.  
"Shh," his soft voice soothed her from above. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."  
She chattered to him again, intent on saying, 'thank you,' but forgetting that she was in her animagus form.  
She didn't allow herself to go back to sleep as Remus slowly made his way up the basement stairs, across her living room, and into her bedroom. He paused a few times during the trip, not panting, but allowing his body to slouch ever so slightly and take a rest.  
Hermione dared not transform and attempt to help him. Remus would shut down and refuse any assistance. She had learned that the hard way.  
He slowly put her down on her bed, letting her little body sink into a plush cushion seated against the headboard. Hermione then opened her eyes, watching his naked form with want as he made his way around to the other side of the mattress and sank down onto it with a cavernous sigh.  
Remus then flopped heavily to his side, curled into a tight ball, and fell into a deep, restful sleep. Hermione watched his thin body with trepidation. He was getting too skinny again. The poor man went through times in his life when he would look almost emaciated. Whenever Hermione tried to bring up the subject, Remus would shut down and refuse to talk to her. she knew he wasn't consciously starving himself, that all his energy was drained following the change. She knew that he simply didn't have the energy to take care of himself, and that he was too proud or too humiliated to admit that he needed assistance.  
Closing her eyes, Hermione concentrated on her human body, and slowly felt the itchy feeling that came with her transformation. Her body sank further into the mattress, her hair flopping over her face as it grew and curled. Slowly, the small, creamy coloured fennec fox transformed back into a human.  
Quickly wiping her curls back, Hermione sat up with determination and went about her morning routine. She let Remus sleep for a few hours while she had a shower, ate breakfast, and cleaned the mess in the basement. She then went about making a big pot of vegetable soup. She ensured that it was thick and smooth, so that it was easy for him to eat.  
When she returned to Remus, she found him curled beneath her thick duvet. As he slept, Hermione watched him for any other signs of distress. He seemed fine, albeit exhausted.  
She smiled at him fondly and sat the tray of soup down on the bedside table. A small growl made her head snap up and look at the werewolf lying on the bed. His lip was curled ever so slightly, his nose twitching. Remus growled softly again.  
He must have been dreaming. Hermione thought it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen.  
-0-0-0-0-  
Hermione went to work the next day, alone. Remus was obviously recovering at his home, and when she last saw him that morning, he was zonked out in his bed. She made sure there was left over soup within Remus' reach so that he could eat when he woke again. A warming charm was expertly placed over the bowl so that the soup would remain warm, but not too hot. Hermione had to thank Molly Weasley for the lessons.  
The day was fairly straight forward. Not many of the regulars asked after Remus' absence. It wasn't that they knew he was a werewolf, but they were aware that he was a rather shy person and was more comfortable doing the office work rather than servicing his customers. More often than not, Hermione was the only person in the front store, and she was often mistaken for the owner by newcomers.  
However, in the late afternoon, just before the store was about to close, Mrs. Sortis toddled her way into the store.  
She was an older woman, perhaps in her mid fifties, who was short and a little dumpy like Molly Weasley. She was a smiling, friendly woman who had the ability to make it all but incapable to dislike her.  
"Hello, dear," Mrs. Sortis greeted warmly, hitching her oversized, red leather arm bag higher up on her shoulder. "Is Remus here today?"  
Hermione had to resist giggling at the older woman. Penny Sortis had developed a large, albeit harmless crush on Remus since he had opened the store three years ago. The poor sod had quickly tacked onto the older woman, and went about avoiding her like she had the plague. Naturally, Hermione thought the situation was hilarious.  
"I'm afraid not," Hermione answered with a trouble-making smile playing about her lips. "I'm afraid he's ill and will be off work for the next few days. Would you like me to leave a message for him?"  
Mrs. Sortis' shoulders slumped in disappointment, but Remus' absence (yet again) did not deter her.  
"Oh," the older woman sighed long-sufferingly, but a naughty smile played about her lips to show her light heartedness. "Just tell Remus that I'm thinking of him."  
Hermione giggled, her smile growing just as naughty as Mrs. Sortis'. "Will do."  
-0-0-0-0-  
She stopped off at Remus' house on her way home from work. She couldn't help but worry about the poor man. Since he and Tonks had split up, he had steadily been turning into a more sickly shell of himself. In a way, his lycanthropy was a two-person curse. There was no way Remus could sustain himself after the full moon. He was too busy being occupied by his exhaustion. In all honesty, he needed someone to take care of him.  
And that was why Hermione was worried.  
She wasn't surprised when she let herself into his home that he was still in bed, the bowl of soup on the bedside table sitting untouched.  
Hermione moved to pick up the soup with a long winded sigh, but she was stopped by a soft tug on her pants leg. Hermione stopped short and looked down at Remus.  
He was smiling up at her blearily, obviously still half asleep. He let go on her pants, and instead moved to curl his arm around her leg and pull her closer.  
"'Lo, sweetheart," Remus mumbled as Hermione's knees pressed against the mattress.  
Hermione smiled fondly at him, and moved down to brush his hair away from his forehead. "Hi... Feeling any better?"  
Remus' smile became slightly strained, but he nodded nonetheless. "Just tired, Hermione. No need to worry."  
Hermione's eyebrows rose and pinched together. "You haven't eaten anything all day, Remus. Of course I'm going to worry about you."  
"It's not your duty to do so," his voice, still tired, turned slightly bitter.  
"No," Hermione agreed. She leaned down, grasped the hand that still curled around the back of her thigh, and tangled their fingers together. "But I want to do it. It's not a duty to me, Remus. It never was and never will be."  
She sat down next to him, squeezing Remus' hand comfortingly as she did so. If only the man truly knew how much he meant to her.  
Remus' striking blue gaze held hers as he studied her face, his expression softening infinitesimally as Hermione smiled warmly at the bedraggled man lying prone in his bed. "You really are a sweetheart, you know that, Hermione?" he brought their twined hands to his lips and gave the creamy skin on the back of her hand a soft, lingering kiss. The scraggly balbo that he sported scratched at her skin, just before his lips soothed it. Hermione felt goose bumps flare wide from her spine just as her face warmed in a shy blush.  
"I'm just doing what any friend would-"  
He quickly cut her off. "no, really, Hermione... It means more to me than you could ever imagine. I know I'm not an easy person to live with because of my... condition. It's hard for everyone that associates with me, especially those that try to help me through the full moon. Only James, Sirius, and Peter had the tenacity... and now, thirty years later, it's you."  
His eyes bored into hers as he brought his other hand to engulf hers. "it's you, Hermione."


	2. Daggies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just another day in the store. Only, this time, there was an innocent white box on the countertop that would change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling. In no way do I claim her original characters, settings, or plots as my own. I make no money from this story. Original characters, original plots, and werewolf culture are my own work.

The second gift arrived a month later. This time, it was worse. When Hermione arrived that morning, she had frozen dead in her tracks at the sight of an innocent looking, white cardboard box sitting atop the counter. And to make matters worse, Remus walked in not seconds after her.  
"Hermione, what're you-"  
Remus collided into her back with a soft grunt. Hermione pitched forward a step, and luckily the contact shook her out of her trance. She quickly rushed over to the counter, moaning, "Oh, good lord, not again! The first time was humiliating enough!"  
"Hermione?" Remus asked behind her softly.  
She ignored him, and instead rushed over to the counter, snatched the box up, and stuffed it in her bag. As the box got squashed between a load of books, she managed to get a glimpse of something shiny within the confines.  
Zipping up the bag, Hermione awkwardly lifted her head and glanced to Remus. He, once again, looked horrified and pale.  
Hermione's cheeks heated up in a furious blush.  
In a slightly shrill voice, she addressed Remus, "I would appreciate it if we just ignored this and went about our business like nothing has happened."  
Remus swallowed loudly, but didn't say anything. Eyes still wide, the older werewolf moved to the back of the shop where he, no doubt, planned to continue his paperwork.  
-0-0-0-0-  
For the rest of the day, an itchy sort of curiousness overwhelmed Hermione. What was in that box? It was red, like those knickers had been. Was it another set of racy underwear? Was it maybe a bra, or something of the sort that would eventually make up some sort of saucy outfit?  
Finally, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. As the store became quiet around mid afternoon, Hermione snuck out to the store room, feeling very much like a naughty child.  
Quietly closing the door behind her, Hermione bent down, unzipped her bag, and opened the lid to the cardboard box.  
"Hermione?"  
Hermione jumped away from her bag with a frightened yelp.  
"What're you doing here?" Hermione barked, her face, once again, flushing bright red.  
Remus' eyebrows rose. "I'm fetching a book for a customer," he answered mildly. "And yourself?"  
Hermione spluttered, quickly nudging her bag away with her foot so that Remus wouldn't see it. "Oh, I... uh-"  
Remus' chin dipped as he looked at her, and Hermione knew that he knew what she had been doing here.  
"I was just... itemising."  
"So soon?' Remus asked quietly, but Hermione could sense the teasing in his voice. "You only did so a few days ago."  
"Well... we sell a lot! I was just checking." She knew her voice was rising to unnecessarily squeaky pitch, but Hermione could hardly help herself. She was now starting to twitch nervously, her fingers knotting together.  
Remus then turned to her, book in hand. "Hermione... again, there's no need to be embarrassed."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione sniffed. She didn't allow Remus to continue talking, for she quickly vacated the room.  
-0-0-0-0-  
Hermione got a break later that afternoon when Mrs. Sortis entered the shop once more. She was impeccably dressed, as usual, her cheeks rosy from the snowfall in the alleyway.  
Hermione, who was reading The Magician for what felt like the hundredth time, looked up and felt her features immediately shift into an amused smile. Whenever Penny came within ten meters of Remus, she seemed incapable of keeping her hands off the poor man.  
"Hello, Hermione," the older woman greeted warmly. Behind Penny, Hermione saw Remus' head snap up, his eyes flaring wide with horror. "Is Remus feeling better?"  
Hermione smiled at Mrs. Sortis. Remus flailed his arms through the glass window in his office, silently begging Hermione to lie and tell Penny that he was deathly ill.  
Hermione's smile twitched further upwards, her eyes twinkling with good humour. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" she pointed to Remus' office, noticing how his mouth dropped open, a look of utter betrayal engulfing his features. If truth be told, the poor man looked like a kicked puppy.  
Penny's eyes widened with glee, a toothy smile making her eyes crinkle. "Remus! You scoundrel!"  
Remus gave the older woman a small, pained smile, and walked from his office to greet her. "Penny," his voice was small, "how nice to see you again."  
Hermione had to escape the room before her titters gave her away. The last thing she heard before she opened the storeroom door was Mrs. Sortis' voice asking, "You haven't been avoiding me, have you, Mr. Lupin?"  
She closed to door behind her with a soft chuckle, her fingers pressed to her lips in order to stifle the sound. As soon as the door clicked shut, Hermione couldn't help as her eyes trailed down to the floor, following the droll concrete slabs until she spotted her bag peeking out between two large cabinets.  
Remus would be occupied for quite a while as Mrs. Sortis pawed at him. Perhaps... Just a peek... Yes, just a quick squiz to determine what the gift was, and then she would go back and rescue Remus...  
Hermione hesitantly stepped forward and picked up her bag. As she unzipped it, her wonderings came back full force. Scarlet, lacy bustier top...? Naughty, red liquorice coloured rope that she would be able to tie Remus to her bed with and do unmentionably naughty things to-  
Hermione immediately stopped that train of thought. If she continued, she doubted she would be the one rescuing Remus from being pawed. Rather, she would simply steal him away from Mrs. Sortis and paw him herself.  
Breath held in anticipation, Hermione reached into her bag and lifted the squished cardboard box upwards. Upon spotting the contents, Hermione's face immediately flared into a warm blush.  
Inside was a pair of fire engine red handcuffs.  
Immediately, Hermione's mind flashed with images of her hands engulfed in the cool metal, tied high to a long metal hook hanging from the ceiling. Remus circling her only in a pair of his shabby work pants. Remus growling low in his throat as he saw her all but naked and wanting for him, her quim fluttering with need, her bottom barely covered by the racy red panties that she had received as her initial gift.  
Her thoughts were all but slammed shut as she quickly shut the lid to the box and zipped her bag. She pressed her knees together and wrestled with her body for a few uncomfortable seconds, before she dropped her bag against the wall and made her way out of the room.  
She was sure her face was still the same colour as those handcuffs as she made her way into the store once more.  
Mrs. Sortis had since cornered Remus against one of his many book cases. The poor man was pressing himself as far as he could into the shelves as the older woman chattered to him, her hands patting at his chest and shoulders in a seemingly innocent fashion.  
Hermione watched as the werewolf laughed nervously when Mrs. Sortis put her hand to his left pectoral and gave him a saucy wink.  
Hermione giggled at Remus' pale expression and decided to finally save the poor man. "Mrs. Sortis, have you seen that new book on abstract household charms by Gerda Catchlove. You might have heard of her. She also wrote Charm Your Own Cheese a few years back."  
Remus' expression melted into one of utter relief as Mrs. Sortis' attention was drawn away by the younger woman.  
When Hermione had finally managed to direct the older woman out of the shop (only after Mrs. Sortis gave Remus a departing hug that made the man give Hermione a terrified look over her shoulder), Remus quickly moved to the front door and hung up the, 'out to lunch,' sign.  
He turned to her, shoulders slumped and an expression of pure violation pulling his features downwards.  
Hermione cooed sympathetically through a short giggle. "Come here."  
Remus shuffled over to where she was standing, and allowed her to pull him into a soothing hug.  
He didn't put his arms around her, but let his head flop onto her shoulder. His voice was muffled as he mumbled deflatedly, "that was absolutely horrendous."  
Hermione simply pulled back and gave him a good-natured smile. "I seem to recall you telling me a short while ago that I should have taken that first gift as a compliment. That I should be flattered, you said. Perhaps you should take Mrs. Sortis' attentions in the same way. She is happily married you know, and yet she still takes time out of her shopping to pop in and fondle you."  
"Hermione, it's not a good-"  
"Perhaps not," she interrupted him with a warm smile. "But, maybe to put your mind at ease, you should look at it like that. Either, you're stuck dreading whenever she's going to come in, or you're going to bask in the glow that is a dirty old woman showering her attentions on you."  
"Hermione, that's disgusting." Remus gave her a revolted expression. "I don't want her fondling me." At this Hermione giggled. "And, really, it's awful that I only seem to attract happily married, older women."  
Hermione's smile dropped. "That's not true, Remus. I've had to chase many a young, drooling teenage girl from the shop."  
Remus' expression soured even further.  
"Seriously," Hermione continued. "What on earth did you think they were giggling about in a shop like this? A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot? No, they were whispering what naughty things they wanted to do with the shop owner."  
Remus' nose scrunched in further revulsion. "Fantastic. So, either, I have the choice of a post menopausal, married woman, or a premenstrual teenager who would burn pink every time I said the word, 'boobies.'"  
At this, Hermione spluttered out a laugh. "Boobies? Remus, no one says boobies anymore."  
-0-0-0-0-  
This was a horrid idea, Hermione cursed to herself. She hitched her bag higher onto her shoulder and slowly shuffled her way to the shop.  
It was like walking around with a permanent wedgie in place. There was no way to pull it out. No way to feel dignified at all, knowing she was wearing a frilly red g-string as she talked to customers. Good lord, what if she had to bend over, and her shirt rode up? Everyone would see it! They would think her some sort of bimbo! No, she couldn't do it. She was going to turn around, go home and change again. Remus would just have to open the shop by himself –  
"Good morning, Hermione. Sleep well?"  
Curse Remus and his impeccable timing. "Brilliantly... thank you."  
Hermione followed her boss into the shop like one condemned to die of humiliation. After many weeks of going through those panties with sweeps of jinx and curse checks, and coming up with absolutely nothing, she had decided to wear them to work, wanting to feel sexy for the first time in her life.  
Unfortunately, she didn't predestine the feel of wearing such underwear. It was awful. As mentioned before, she felt like she had a giant wedgie, and on top of it all, her bottom felt utterly exposed as it rubbed against the coarse fibres of her muggle jeans. Did her globes jiggle without the support of her normal underwear? Did they sag more than usual without the confines of her regular panties?  
She never thought she'd see the day where she wanted her daggies back. Them and all their wonderful, conservative glory.  
-0-0-0-0-  
She managed to shuffle her way through the working day without anyone spotting (at least, she thought so) her choice of underwear. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to run home and change out of the blasted things straight after work, since Remus offered to escort her to The Burrow for the Weasley family's monthly get together. She was so flustered that she hadn't thought to say no.  
They both walked through the door and were immediately engulfed in a large hug by Molly Weasley. Hermione felt comfortable enough, being barely an inch taller than the Weasley matriarch, but poor Remus had to stoop down as Molly curled her free arm around the werewolf's neck.  
"Remus, look at you," Molly said as she pulled away from their embrace, her expression morphing into one of worry. "You're getting much to skinny, again, dear. You're as bad as Harry! Come in, come in! Let's feed you."  
As Remus helped Hermione out of her fluffy winter cloak, he spoke to Molly in a soft, reassuring voice, "I'm just fine, Molly, really. There's no need to worry about me."  
Molly flapped his answer away and muttered over her shoulder as she made her way back down the rickety hallway leading to the kitchen. "It's my job to worry, dear. Otherwise, how else would you take care of yourself?"  
"Hermione's been doing a pretty good job of feeding me."  
Hermione looked at him, and spotted the sideways smile he gave her.  
"Good," Molly answered as they entered the kitchen. Through the window, Hermione spotted the Weasley's, Tonks and her new husband, Sirius, and Harry sitting around a table, watching Fred and George – no doubt – do something that Molly wouldn't approve of. "It's about time you met another woman, Remus. Nymphadora has moved on, and now it's your turn."  
Hermione's face flared red as she spluttered out a jumbled answer. "Oh, no Molly – mistaken – Remus and I could never – the age gap – I would... never..."  
The Weasley matriarch levelled Hermione with a long stare, her chin angling down as she peered at the younger girl. Hermione's attempted answer slowly petered out as Molly's eyes switched to Remus.  
He hadn't said a thing, but his expression said more than his words ever could have. He had gone pale again (he seemed to do that a lot when it came to potentially sexual subjects), his eyes wide, and an almost deer-like expression on his face.  
Mrs. Weasley didn't say a word to them, but her eyes continued to flicker between the two in shrewd appraisal.  
Hermione started fidgeting uncomfortably, an overwhelming urge to suddenly blurt the truth about her feelings engulfing her.  
This was why Molly Weasley was such a good mother. She had this aura about her that made you feel incredibly guilty whenever you lied.  
"I'm just," Hermione said softly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder as she made a quick escape, "say hello to everyone else – outside... yes..."  
She quickly made her way out of the kitchen. As she opened the door, she turned back to look at Remus and the Weasley matriarch.  
Molly was whispering something to him, moving her hand to cup his cheek as he slumped, defeated. He whispered an answer back to her and dragged a hand through his downy hair. Molly gave him a small smile, one that almost looked sympathetic.  
Hermione frowned to herself, but decided to continue on outside.  
She was greeted with a chorus of rambunctious hellos, and she answered back in a far more dignified manner. Ron and Harry moved forward to squeeze her in a hug between them before they led her over to a chair that was seated between Sirius and Östen, Tonks' husband. They both smiled at her as she sat down, Sirius even going to far as to give her a saucy wink.  
Östen turned back to his very pregnant wife, which gave Sirius room to scoot closer to Hermione, sling her arm over her shoulder and whisper in her ear. "Nice panties, love."  
Hermione reeled back in shock, her face flaring red. She turned to look at the marauder, and noticed the almost proud expression on his face.  
She leaned in so that no one would hear them, and hissed, "Are they sticking out? Can everyone see them?"  
Sirius, smirk grew. "No, love. No need to worry. The walk of shame is only visible to those that know it."  
"The walk of shame?"  
Sirius nodded sagely. "Oh, yes. It's the walk that defines the newly popped cherry of a g-string wearer."  
"What?" Hermione was getting more distressed by the minute. "Sirius, you're not making any sense."  
Sirius leaned away for her and sighed heavily. When he leaned back in, the arm curled around her shoulder tightened so that she was forced to scooch closer. "Women who haven't worn g-strings all that much tend to walk around like they have a humongous wedgie." His eyebrows rose as if imploring her to finally understand. When Hermione's jaw dropped open in horror, he continued, "Now, I could be wrong. You could be walking around with your normally conservative little white knickers bunched between those beautiful bum cheeks of yours, but I figured I'd take a wild guess and determine that you're wearing those frilly red panties that arrived at the book store not four weeks ago."  
Hermione's face transformed from pink to an ugly puce colour. "Remus told you?"  
Sirius didn't answer her, but the teasing twinkle in his eye gave her all the confirmation she needed.  
Hermione shoved his arm away angrily, and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide in horror. "That was private, Sirius," she whispered through her finger tips.  
"If it's any consolation, love," Sirius spoke more seriously now, "Remus did tell me that he thought your bum would look absolutely glorious in those knickers."  
Hermione's expression turned shy. She averted her eyes, her face cooling to an embarrassed pink once more.  
"Sirius leaned into her once again. "But, he also said that he thought your bum would look even better in those virginal white panties that you prefer wearing. Said that you looked pure... sweet..."  
"Sirius, stop," Hermione pushed him away with an inelegant hand pressed to his face. "That's so... dirty..."  
"I'm drunk, love, I can say anything I want."  
Hermione snorted out a short laugh. "No, you can't! That's cheating!"  
Sirius gave a barking laugh and pulled her close enough to bump their heads together.  
"Ow!"


	3. Crackhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just another day in the store. Only, this time, there was an innocent white box on the countertop that would change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling. In no way do I claim her original characters, settings, or plots as my own. I make no money from this story. Original characters, original plots, and werewolf culture are my own work.

The night atmosphere at the Burrow was absolutely magnificent. Molly had assigned the boys some chores earlier in the day to ensure that at least three large tables were set up outside and no gnomes were wondering about to steal the shoes of unsuspecting party goers. A long, white table cloth was warmly draped over the mismatched sizes of the wooden surfaces, and Hermione had to wonder more than once how on earth Molly had managed to find so much cutlery. No three plates matched, and you would be hard pressed to find a cup that was the same design, but to Hermione, the haphazard set up is what made it so special.  
Molly had set up a charm that kept the cold away from the tables, and Hermione found herself fascinated as the tender snowfall was gently diverted in a wide dome around their party. The large platters of food that the Weasley matriarch had valiantly cooked and prepared in time lifted dancing tendrils of hot steam to the atmosphere. Warm, yellow wax candles had been expertly levitated so that they would hover over the table, slowly but surely dancing above the group's heads as they ate and chatted.  
Hermione had eventually been settled at the table between Sirius and Remus. Originally, the two older men had sat together, their heads bent towards each other and talking quietly, most likely gossiping like a pair of doddering old ladies. There was a chair open next to Sirius, and so Hermione moved to sit into it, only to be blocked off by a perfectly manicured hand holding onto her forearm.  
"Oh, no, Hermione," Sirius looked up at her with a trouble-making smile. "You couldn't, possibly sit there, darling. That chair simply isn't padded enough. Here, have mine. All cozied up and warm, right next to Remus." He sent her and naughty wink as he practically pulled her down into the – admittedly, more padded – dining room chair.  
Hermione was too busy giving Sirius a desperate, red faced glare to notice Remus' wide-eyed expression over her shoulder.  
And so dinner started. As far as she was concerned, that was the absolute worst place to be at that moment. Between Sirius' naughty glances to her crotch, and Remus' peace-keeping conversation, Hermione felt utterly trapped. Her nerves were at near breaking point. She felt compelled to juggle between awkwardly shifting in her chair to get comfortable (many curses sent to the proprietor of whoever made the underwear she was wearing in the meantime), sending Sirius reprimanding scowls, and trying to keep in conversation with Remus.  
By the time dinner was complete, she was full to bursting, but her stomach, instead of hanging heavy in her belly, sated, was roiling with anxiety.  
She was thankful when Molly brusquely ordered her children to clear the table, for Hermione found the perfect moment to slip away, unnoticed by all but Arthur Weasley, who sent her a departing nod and a warm smile, so that she could take a wonder around the snow blanketed Burrow.  
She followed a magically cleared, slightly icy path that lead to a small pond that edged the property border. It was fairly large pond, deep enough to swim in, with points where even Ron, who was freakishly tall and lanky, couldn't stand on the bottom without his head submerging. In summer, tall reeds would grow high around the edge, fish swimming merrily in the sun warmed water. Now, in the middle of winter, the tall grasses had long died off, and if there were any fish in the pond, they were submerged far beneath the thick ice that blanketed the surface.  
Hermione shivered slightly in the cold air, warm steam escaping her open mouth as she exhaled. Wrapping her thick jumper tighter around her body, and dipping her chin into the merino, Hermione trudged further forwards, intent on making her way over to the rickety old bench that sat beneath the gnarled, dead looking branches of a low hanging tree that bordered the Weasley pond.  
"Hermione!"  
Said woman spun around in shock at the voice that disturbed her quiet, peaceful moment. In that split second, she felt her foot slip in the smooth ice underfoot, and plonked down hard, half on her hip, half on her bum. She threw an elbow out in a wild dash to save her head from cracking on the ice.  
She lay there for a second before the ache flared in her pelvis. As it throbbed into life, she gave a hearty groan, and rolled on her back, pulling her legs up to her chest as she waited for the pain to ebb.  
"Hermione?" she heard Remus shout, his voice worried. She turned her head to the side in time to see the poor man slipping his way over to her, stumbling over the icy pathway. "Hermione, are you alright?"  
Her face was still scrunched in pain as she answered. "Yep, I'm fine. Just give me a minute."  
He finally made it over, and knelt at her side, his face a mask of harried anxiety. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry for startling you."  
Hermione gave a small chuckle at his clucking. "Really, Remus, its fine." Her arm reached out and grasped his hand. His fingers were freezing. "Help me up?"  
The older wizard smiled gently at her, and lifted her up with all the tender handling of a man holding a newborn kitten.  
He pulled her close and supported her weight with an arm wrapped securely around her waist.  
A small pink blush started heating her cheeks as Remus lifted her up high enough so that her toes only just brushed the ground. Inside, she felt slightly mortified. This way, he could feel just how heavy she was. "Remus, I'll crush you. Put me down."  
The werewolf - who previously had a small smile quirking his lips upwards - immediately frowned, the good-humoured twinkle in his eyes turning dark.  
"You're hardly the size of a whale, Hermione."  
Well, that didn't make Hermione feel better at all. In fact, that made her want to move away from him.  
At her distancing, Remus expression immediately turned contrite. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it so brashly. It just came out." His tight hold on her waist had a desperate sort of constriction to it.  
"Remus," Hermione's voice was somewhat clipped. "Loosen your arms a little, please."  
His hold immediately slackened, and Hermione's feet hit the ground with a dull thud. The pain in her hip returned with the slight jarring of her descent, but she wasn't concerned with that right now.  
"Sorry," she murmured lowly, her eyes dropping to the ground in front of her booted feet. "I suppose I'm a little on edge tonight."  
Remus didn't say anything, but draped his arm over her shoulders in much the same way that Sirius had, and motioned a silent invitation for them to go sit on the bench with a sweep of his other arm.  
As they settled onto the cold wood, Remus asked her softly, "Why are you on edge?"  
Hermione glanced up at him, before dropping her eyes to her fisted hands. They were starting to feel the chill, so she quickly shoved them under her armpits. "Sirius."  
"Ah." Hermione knew that Remus understood immediately. "Yes, he can be a bit of a handful."  
"A handful?" Hermione asked incredulously, though her voice remained low so as to keep the quiet peace that surrounded the pond. "Remus, he's a tsunami of bounding energy. The man is a seventeen year old trapped in a grown man's body. It's no wonder he gets on so well with his godson, because their maturity levels are exactly the same."  
Remus chuckled fondly. "Yes, you're right." He gave her a sideways smile, and bumped her shoulder with his. "But, you have to admit, he can be quite fun."  
Hermione returned his smile. "Of course he can, but sometimes... sometimes, I just want to," her hands emerged from her armpits and curled into claws as she imitated strangling the dark haired aristocrat.  
Remus chuckled again and looked out across the pond. Hermione followed his gaze.  
The burrow twinkled at them from across the snow strewn land, a lantern of golden light burning defiantly against the harsh coldness of the pastures surrounding it.  
"Come on," Remus eventually said, standing. "Everyone's inside, now. We should go join them before they get worried."  
Hermione gave him a smile as he stretched out his large, cold-fingered hand, and helped her up.  
She didn't take two steps down the path, before Remus tugged her to a gentle halt. Hermione gave him a quizzical look. "What is it?"  
Remus offered a gentle smile. "We might as well cut across. Its faster."  
Hermione's eyes strayed to the burrow, and felt herself growing tense at the mention of cutting across. "I can understand cutting the fields, but I'm not sure about the pond, Remus. What if one of us falls through the ice?"  
Remus, ever patient, explained, "the Weasley's use this pond all through winter to ice skate. It'll hold us. Trust me."  
Hermione gave him a searching, wide eyed look, before glancing to the lake again. Finally, she nodded.  
They stepped onto the ice, the surface covered with fluffy snow that allowed them to stride across it without slipping too much. The pair's shoulders were hunched against the snow, while they walked close together to maintain body heat.  
"Oh, look!"  
Hermione was pulled to a halt again as Remus grasped her shoulder. He was pointing to the sky.  
Hermione looked up just in time to see a bright streak of light flare across the heavens.  
"Wow," Hermione hummed as she watched it peter out. Her eyes, as they always did when she turned them to the sky, strayed to the near full moon. Once a beautiful sight, it had now turned ugly.  
"Hermione?"  
She turned to look at Remus. She grew alarmed at the sight of him pale faced and looking at his feet.  
He looked up at her again. "Did you hear that?"  
Hermione frowned at him. "Hear wh-"  
A sharp crack, one that was reminiscent of thunder breaking through the land, sounded beneath their feet.  
She felt dread wrapping its thick tendrils about her chest as she watched a large splinter form between them.  
She looked up at Remus fearfully, but the older man simply gave her a pained smile, lifted his hand and held it to her cheek before saying, "Hermione. It's too late."  
"What?" her eyes widened in horror.  
His other hand came up til he cupped her face in his large, cold-fingered hands. "You're too late, sweetheart. You shouldn't have waited. We could have had more time."  
And with a final crack, the ice disappeared from beneath Remus' feet and he fell through, into the dark oblivion of near frozen water.  
Hermione dropped to all fours at the edge of the round hole in the ice and screamed, "Remus!"  
And with a final, raping gasp, she woke up in the warm burrow, only to find Remus and Mrs. Weasley hovering over her with worried expressions on their faces.  
"Oh, thank goodness, you're awake." Molly immediately bustled away into the hallway, babbling as she went. "Well, this means she doesn't have a concussion, Remus." She returned within seconds. "Stop crowding her, dear. You're practically breathing in her air."  
"Hermione?" he said hoarsely, his hand moved to cup her cheek, much like he had done at the pond before he had fallen through the ice.  
Hermione felt a shudder ripple its way down her spine as she raised one of her own hands to cover the one he had placed at her cheek. "I was too late," she whispered, her eyes sightless as they stared up at him. "I was too late."  
"Too late?" Molly asked brusquely. "No, no, dear, you were right on time."  
Hermione blinked a few times, and then turned her head to look at Mrs. Weasley. "I'm sorry, Molly. What did you say?"  
The older woman smiled kindly at her. "Never you mind." She bustled up to Hermione, flapping Remus away with her hand as she did, and then unfolded a large, somewhat stiff quilt. The red-head wrapped it snugly around Hermione, making sure to tuck it in beneath the younger woman's legs and torso.  
"There," she announced her completion, and then sat on a chair from across Hermione.  
Remus followed soon after, sitting at Hermione's feet. She glanced down at him, and noticed the nervous energy still exuding from him. She quickly tucked her toes beneath the werewolf's leg and smiled shyly at him when his eyes turned to her. She made sure to get a good look at his face so that she could remind herself that Remus hadn't just fallen to his death.  
She exhaled a shuddering breath and pulled the blanket higher on her chest. "What happened?"  
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said from across her, "what do you remember, dear?"  
Hermione carefully thought out her answer. She could hardly tell where reality ended and the dream began. She didn't wish to tell them what had happened on the pond, especially Remus. It was far too private a moment. One that she wished to keep to herself.  
After a few moments, she carefully answered. "I came here for dinner. We ate outside, and I left for a walk around the fields."  
Mrs. Weasley leaned forward. "You don't remember anything after that?"  
Hermione shook her head, avoiding looking directly at the Weasley matriarch. She knew that if she dared maintain eye contact with the older woman, she would be compelled to tell the truth.  
She shook her head. "No, ma'am."  
"Hermione," she heard Remus call to her softly, the weight of his hand coming down to rest on her ankle. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."  
Molly immediately piped up. "Don't blame yourself, Remus, dear. It was an accident."  
Hermione looked at the werewolf, a small frown on her brow. "Why are you sorry?"  
Remus swallowed heavily. "I made you fall over. If I hadn't startled you, you wouldn't have slipped on the ice. You wouldn't-"  
"That's enough," Mrs. Weasley barked at him. She stood. "Now, I'm making hot cocoa for the both of you. Remus, you get that self depreciating look of your face before I come back, or I'm going to flog you. Understood?"  
Remus sent the Weasley matriarch a sideways glance. "Yes, Molly."  
They both watched as Mrs. Weasley made her way out of the room.  
Remus then turned to Hermione, many levels of contrition glowing on his face. "Please forgive me, Hermione," he said earnestly.  
Hermione felt a world of sympathy for the poor man. She understood that he'd had a rather unforgiving childhood – understood that what friends he did have made him cautious to make mistakes and cling to them almost desperately. Hermione knew that, while he held a healthy level of remorse for his accident, this overreaction was one based off a lifetime of rejection.  
She sat up, and bent into his side, one of her arms curling around his waist. "Remus, I'm not angry at you. Like Molly said, it was a mistake." She smiled up at him. "I doubt you could ever make me angry at you. You're far too nice."  
The hand that he had curled around her shoulders rose to brush her bangs from her face. She didn't notice his fingertips lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. She was, however, aware of the prickle of sensation that the caress had left.  
The phrase, 'love struck puppy,' echoed in her mind for a mere second as she looked up at the man who graciously allowed her to cuddle with him.  
He gazed down at her, his blue eyes soft. They darted up to her fringe, and Hermione felt his fingers toy with the short strands once more.  
She sucked her lips into her mouth in a moment of uncertainty, before whispering, "Remus?" she knew straight away that she sounded like a frightened elf owl.  
His eyes turned to her face once more. "Hmm?"  
She hesitated for yet another second, before steeling her resolve, lifting herself up swiftly, and planting a short, somewhat stiff kiss to his cheek.  
She sat back down as promptly as she picked herself up, a red blush flaring across her cheeks. She grasped his now limp hands in her own and whispered fiercely, the words rushed out like a nervous child. "You're lovely. Don't let anyone else say otherwise."  
Remus blinked owlishly at her, and Hermione felt the red in her cheeks flare hotter.  
Feeling like she had somehow stripped herself bare in front of him, Hermione stood and bid a hasty retreat. "I... um, I'm going to – oof!" her hip collided noisily with a side table seated next to the doorway. Remus half picked himself out of his seat in concern. "No, don't worry. I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Remus."  
Hermione was so hasty in her retreat, that she didn't spot Sirius poking his head out from behind the kitchen archway, giving Remus a high-browed, conspicuous wink, and a thumbs up. Not a second later, Molly poked her head out from behind Sirius, giving the werewolf a conspiratorial smile – one that said, 'I told you so!'  
Had Hermione not escaped so quickly, she would have seen the way Remus' expression turned thoughtful, would have heard him utter out a simple sentence that had the potential to send her reeling, "do you two really believe that she's in love with me?"  
She did, however, hear Sirius' exasperated, half pleading, "yes!" before she apparated back to the safety of her old, secluded, grey stone cottage.  
-0-0-0-0-  
Hermione lay in bed later that night, thinking, unable to gain a single moments peace. Her mind was buzzing, her thoughts boiling about like a hissing kettle.  
Now that she looked back on the events, she could see the obvious clues that hinted she had been dreaming. The utter melodrama of such a scene was a big, blinking light in her book. Neither she nor Remus would have ever acted so outwardly... mooshy in real life. A dramatic existence was something she actively avoided. Walking across a half frozen pond – one she knew that the Weasley's reinforced with charms in her waking moments – both cooing at a shooting star, Remus falling through the ice, all indicated to an overactive, and quite frankly, fluffy imagination.  
However, she didn't miss the way in which her subconscious prodded at her. She closed her eyes and contemplated.  
"You're too late, sweetheart."  
She opened her eyes once more, unable to stop the nervous twisting of her mouth as the memory of those words sent an unpleasant jolt to the pit of her stomach.  
"We could have had more time."  
Hermione stiffly shook her head, her hands clenching at her sides.  
She had never actively thought of the possibility of Remus being taken away from her. Whether it be in tragic circumstances, work, or – heaven forbid – another woman.  
Just the thought of such a thing made Hermione feel sick to her stomach. She had always expected that Remus would constantly be around, but now, after such an unfortunate... vision, Hermione was forced to doubt the solidity of her assumption.  
What if Remus did find another woman? One who was smarter, prettier, and more versed in the world? Someone who he became enthralled with? Married, had children?  
What would she do if such a thing happened? Would she stand aside, hoping to convince herself that he would be happier with someone else? Or would she ruin even the tender friendship they had formed out of jealousy?  
The only problem was, Hermione was sure that there was no way on earth that Remus would even notice that she was a hot blooded female who was desperately in love with him.  
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut once more. Now she was starting to sound like an old spinster.  
Desperately in love with him?  
Was it true? Yes.  
Was that fact as horrendously pitiful as it sounded? Even more so.


End file.
